


Aegri somnia vana

by dianna44



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Depression, Heavy Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 19:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11387160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dianna44/pseuds/dianna44
Summary: “The love of a half-dead heart will keep you half alive.”Victor lives,and dies dies dies,but lives lives lives lives.





	Aegri somnia vana

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Aegri somnia vana](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639455) by [thatdamnpapaya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdamnpapaya/pseuds/thatdamnpapaya)



> I tried going to sleep hours ago, but eventually, I gave into my own insomniac ritual I'll never seem to escape, and wrote this. 
> 
> Please please look at the warning and tags. 
> 
> much love xxxx

His lamp keeps flickering, keeps shining brightly for minutes and hours before it goes out, back on, out, back on out back on again and again and again and again, and Victor wonders how long he can wait until he has to fix it.

“Yuuri,” he groans. He’s still in bed. He’s sick, and Yuuri’s taking care of him. Yuuri doesn’t respond for a long moment. Victor calls his name again.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuri asks, popping his head through the open door. Victor smiles tiredly at him.

“I think we need to add new light bulbs to the list.”

“The lamp again?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Do you feel any better?” Yuuri asks. Victor wonders why he’s so far away, but he doesn’t question it.

Victor shrugs. “Not really.”

Yuuri frowns, but then there’s beeping coming from the kitchen, and Yuuri rushes off before anything else can be said.

Victor bites his inner cheek, looks at the lamp, and notices that it’s not even turned on.

 

 

Victor’s friends keep calling him. Over and over and over always always always calling him and calling him and calling him.

(Victor knows why. He does. Of course, he knows why. But he can’t talk about it. Not yet.)

Chris comes over one day, knocking loudly on his door, calling his name, and Yuuri almost goes to open it, but Victor begs him not to. It takes a while, but Yuuri eventually gives in, and Victor lets himself be embraced by Yuuri as Chris keeps knocking for what seems like years and decades and centuries.

Finally, he leaves, and both Yuuri and Victor can breathe again.

 

 

Victor wakes up to see Yuuri crying. And Victor’s catch breathes for a second before he’s reaching over, pulling Yuuri into his arms, and Yuuri just cries and cries and cries.

(Victor knows Yuuri is crying for him. He knows this is his fault. He can’t do anything about it. He doesn’t want to do anything about it. Please please please don’t make him do something about it.)

“Victor, please,” Yuuri cries into his chest, “Please, take care of yourself.”

Victor’s heart clenches, and _fuck_ , he’s having trouble breathing again. No no no no, not again, please anything but this again. He tries to focus on something, _anything_ , that he can use to center himself, but unfortunately, their clock broke ages ago, and there isn’t any wind, there isn’t any noise except for the labored breathing coming from the pair of them.

Yuuri notices, of course. He always notices, and he pulls back, wiping at his own tears, and starts to slowly count down from ten.

“Seven.” _Breathe breathe breathe, Yuuri is here, he is always here, you are not alone._

“Three.” Victor’s breathing starts to regulate more and more and more.

“One,” Yuuri whispers, and Victor shuts his eyes, feeling Yuuri grab ahold of his face. “You’re going to be alright, Victor. We’re going to be alright.”

Victor holds onto those words more than he’s holding onto his own lifeline.

 

 

Mila’s calling him, Victor vaguely notices as he watches the television screen flicker from station to station. Yuuri’s currently trying to find them something to watch, and Victor feels himself start to feel slightly bad for ignoring everybody.

But then Yuuri smiles at him, that wide and beautiful smile that Victor’s thought about and lived around, and Victor forgets that anybody else in the world exists at all.

 

 

Yuuri gets mad at him a few days later. He yells at him, crying while doing so. And Victor just doesn’t know what he can _say_ , what he can _do_. He’s absolutely powerless in this situation.

(What can he do what he can do what can he do what can he _do_?)

But then Yuuri shuts down along with him, dragging his feet across the living room as he makes his way over to Victor. He sits down next to him. (He’s so warm. Always so warm.)

Yuuri reaches for his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“I just wish you could be happy not pretending.”

(It hurts. Those words hurt. But Victor closes his eyes, and thinks that pretending is so much easier.)

 

 

Victor watches Yuuri’s coffee mug slip from his fingers slip from his fingers slip from his fingers, and when it erupts on the floor, Victor starts to shake, fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ _FUCK_.

“Victor Victor Victor, shhhh, Victor, please. It’s okay. It’s okay. We all break things.”  

Yuuri is right there. He’s always _right there_ , but Victor doesn’t believe him, he can’t believe him. How can he believe him when he’s broken Yuuri’s favorite mug, when he’s shaking and shaking and shaking and can’t control it, when he just feels himself start to cry as Yuuri holds onto him?

How can he believe him how can he believe him how can he believe him how can he believe him—

Please.

Please.

                                               

           

 

 

                                    Somebody tell him.

 

 

Days pass and pass, and Victor watches as autumn gradually shifts into winter. Yuuri takes care of him. His friends still call every day. Every single fucking day. Chris comes over another day, and threatens to break down their door if he doesn’t respond.

Yuuri offers to tell him to go away, but Victor just dismisses him, weakly getting up from his bed and walking to the door to let Chris in.

When Chris sees him, he immediately leans forward and pulls him into a tight tight tight hug. Yuuri watches them fondly, and motions to Victor that he’ll leave them alone for a bit.

“Victor, I’ve been so worried. How are you? Please, how are you, Victor? Why don’t you pick up any of our calls?” Chris asks, his words lodging themselves deep into Victor’s explosive brain.

“I… I don’t know,” says Victor.

Chris frowns. “I’m worried about you. Of course, you know I’m worried about you. With what Yuuri told us… we know how you can get. Always trying to isolate yourself. I wish you wouldn’t do that. We want to see if we can help you.”

(Belatedly, Victor wonders who all is involved in the ‘we’ Chris keeps mentioning.

He also realizes this would all be easier if nobody cared for him at all.)

Victor says something, he isn’t sure, and Chris frowns again, opening his mouth to say something else, but then Yuuri is walking out, and Victor turns to look back at him, Chris looking with him, and Victor says something else, always something else, and he’s gone gone gone gone, the door closing shut with a haunting air of finality to it.

Yuuri smiles at him again, and Victor’s heart soars above the sky.

 

 

Yuuri has to leave the house to go pick up groceries, and when he’s gone, Victor tries his best to calm himself down. He tries his best to click away on his computer without thinking too much about the idea of Yuuri leaving him completely, of never coming back. He tries not to think about never seeing Yuuri’s beautiful smile again, about never feeling Yuuri’s warmth against his skin again, about never waking up next to Yuuri’s endearing irritable self.

And just as he starts to feel his breaths start to quicken quicken quicken, his blood start to go cold cold cold, the door is opening, and Yuuri walks in, bundled up, holding all of their groceries.

Victor smiles at him, relieved, and acts like everything’s okay.

 

 

“Where are you, Victor?” Yuuri asks him one day, as they sit outside on their porch. Victor’s watching the sky move against the world.

“Up there,” he responds, pointing. “The clouds. I’m in the clouds, Yuuri.”

Yuuri simply smiles sadly at him and doesn’t say anything else.

(When Victor sees a cloud that looks like Makkachin, he grins to himself.)

 

 

The days and nights get colder and colder and colder, and Victor notes with horror that Yuuri’s warmth isn’t enough to keep his blood from freezing over.

 

 

Yuuri burns himself while using the oven one day, and even though Victor teases him good-naturedly, he kisses the burn away anyway. Yuuri blushes when he does so, rubs Victor's head, and simply says, “Sap.”

 

 

Victor can’t find Yuuri’s Christmas present. He’s looking everywhere and everywhere and everywhere, and when it ends up being nowhere, he feels the panic come back, rise in him, he’s so close again, he’s so close to it happening, and _where is Yuuri_ _where did he go where is he where is he WHERE IS HE?_

And when Yuuri never comes to help him, Victor screams and grabs the nearest breakable item and throws it against the wall.

Yuuri rushes back in at that moment, and Victor doesn’t know if he can even try to explain the shaking in his hands, the tears in his eyes, or the broken picture frame that he smashed against the wall.

Yuuri doesn’t ask. He doesn’t say anything as he cleans up the glass. He doesn’t say anything as he holds onto Victor’s hands, rubbing them as they start to cease shaking. He doesn’t say anything as he places the picture of them at their wedding in his hands before saying he’ll _have to buy a new frame._

Yuuri doesn’t say anything besides that, and Victor thinks that’s the worst thing of all.

 

 

He wakes up the next day, and Yuuri isn’t beside him.

His hand hurts, Victor realizes, and he blinks blinks blinks blinks.

He wakes up the next day, and Yuuri isn’t beside him.

It’s a burn on his hand. From… from what? He stands up to look for his husband, and stumbles into the kitchen.

He wakes up the next day, and Yuuri isn’t beside him.

The kitchen is a mess. A fucking mess, and there’s shit everywhere, and there’s shit everywhere, and there’s shit everywhere, and Victor doesn’t understand where Yuuri is.

He wakes up the next day, and Yuuri isn’t beside him.

“Yuuri?” he calls out. His voice is hoarse. From screaming. From crying. And in a panic, he suddenly remembers breaking so much. He’s broken so much.

He wakes up the next day, and Yuuri isn’t beside him.

“Yuuri?” he tries again. He sits down on the couch, reaching for the remote, flicking through the stations as he’s been doing for the past couple of months. Always just himself, and there’s always nothing good to watch. He freezes when he starts to process his own thoughts. They're spinning. He's spinning.

He wakes up the next day, and Yuuri isn’t beside him.

Victor blinks. Blinks blinks blinks, and _there’s Yuuri right there, right? That’s him. That’s him that’s him right fucking there, isn’t it?_

He wakes up the next day, and Yuuri isn’t beside him.

And when everything comes crashing down on him, when Victor’s mind flashes through the memories of the past couple of months, when Victor realizes that Yuuri isn’t in a single one of them, when Victor remembers going to the grocery store, when Victor remembers breaking Yuuri’s favorite coffee mug and then crying about it alone on the kitchen floor for hours, when Victor remembers crying when seeing Yuuri’s beautiful face in the clouds, when it all comes crashing down, Victor is gasping, crying, horrified, terrified, petrified, and Victor’s up and running, searching for his phone, _where the fuck is his phone, where the fuck is his phone_ , and suddenly, Victor remembers what all the calls were for. He remembers why his friends keep calling him.

He wakes up the next day, and Yuuri isn’t beside him. And Yuuri isn’t beside him, and Yuuri isn’t beside him, and Yuuri doesn’t come back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He doesn’t want to remember anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chris calls him, and Victor finally picks up the phone. It’s been months and months and months, and Victor finally picks up the phone.

(He was so scared to pick up the phone. He’s been so scared of picking up his phone.)

 

 

 

 

 

The last time Victor picked up the phone, it was Mila’s voice. Victor had smiled, starting to question as to how she was doing, and how was her shopping date with Yuuri going, but then she cut him off, she cut him off, she

 

cut

 

 

                        him

                                               

 

 

            off,

 

 

                                             and her words were poison leaking from the phone.

 

Victor dropped his favorite mug that day.

And ran to the hospital.

 

 

Chris comes over again that day Victor finally picks up the phone after all those months months months, and Chris hugs him, Chris is hugging him, and Victor finally lets himself realize that Yuuri died five months ago. Victor finally lets himself realize he never bought him a Christmas present because he didn’t exist anymore. Victor finally lets himself realize that he never bought another lightbulb because nobody wrote it on the list. Victor finally lets himself realize 

that it was all

in his

head.

 

 

“Where are you, Victor?” Yuuri asks him, startling Victor. It's been four years. Four years.

Victor is watching the clouds from his porch.

He’s surprised to see him.

And pain shoots through his heart.

 _He isn’t real_ , Victor thinks.

But he looks at him anyway. He has to look at him again. He misses him so much. Misses him misses him misses him.

Victor knows he shouldn’t indulge in his own imagination like this. His therapist told him it’s not the safest method of healing.

But Yuuri is smiling widely at him, and Victor can’t help but smile back.

He points to the sky. “Up there. The clouds. I’m… I’m in the clouds, Yuuri.” His voice breaks when he says his dead husband's name. 

Victor knows Yuuri isn’t real. He knows he isn’t real. He knows it he knows it he knows it so painfully, but Victor can’t help but remember, can’t help but think, _He used to be._

Yuuri simply smiles sadly at him and doesn’t say anything else.

( _Just like before._ )

And just like before, Victor points to a particularly interesting shaped cloud, and grins to himself, only to himself, always to himself

because nobody else is there. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> title translates to "a sick man's delusive dreams"/"the patient's empty dreams" (it's latin)
> 
> anyway, I made myself super sad with this fic, but I love you all. 
> 
> check my [tumblr](http://literallynothingbutvictuuri.tumblr.com/)  
> and as always, all the love xxxx


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